Red vs Blue vs Green 1: I'm Living In A Cave
by EthanFlux
Summary: Several months have passed since the Red/Blue teams on Blood Gulch have responded to any transmission. Set during their Season 3 absence, a team of Green soldiers try to discover where they've gone. But not all is as it seems...Review/PM!
1. Nicknames and Body Parts

Red vs. Blue...vs. Green

Story One: I'm Living in a Cave

Chapter One: Nicknames and Body Parts

* * *

><p>It was just like any other day in Blood Gulch; the sun was shining, the Halo was spinning and the Red and Blue outposts stood tall and mighty. Everything was just as it had been...except for one small thing; nobody was there. It had been a week since Command had received a message from Blood Gulch Outpost One and to be frank; they weren't that worried. This hadn't been the first time that both the Red and Blue teams had lost contact simultaneously. They had probably killed each other outright. Even so, Command sent their shallowest and worst to check out the situation of Blood Gulch Outpost One. In the nearby cave system, seven figures materialised. Seven Green figures. One of the figures was talking; "Hut, two, three four! Hut, two, three, four! Hut, two, three, four!"<p>

Finally, the figures materialised into solid objects once more and stood, blinking (if they had eyes, they would) at those around them. The Sergeant continued; "Hut, two, three, four! Hut, two, three, four! Hut, two—"

"We're not even marching sir!" exclaimed Corporal Bob.

The Sergeant paused, checking to see that Bob's comment was accurate.

"Oh yes." he agreed...then took out his shotgun and shot Corporal Bob. "He was a brave man," he said, saluting the Corporal, "died with honour in the name of his planet…and I didn't even know his name."

"Because you shot him!" shouted the other Corporal, forgetting entirely what Bob had done before he'd been shot. The Sergeant raised the shotgun to the Corporal threateningly. "...Sir."

"Better." enthused the Sergeant, lowering the shotgun. He turned to the five remaining squad members, looking them up and down. "Morning ladies." The others turned to each other, a little confused.

"We're men sir." said the small Private uneasily but with a hint of admiration. The description of 'small' for the Private is more mentally than physically.

"Really?" enquired the Sergeant, taken aback. "Wow, I did not see that one coming. Anyway," he cleared his throat, "I am your commanding officer. You don't know my name and I don't wanna know yours...so let's keep it that way."

The Lieutenant standing beside the dead Corporal was bemused; this wasn't exactly the pep talk he'd expected. "Excuse me…commanding officer…what happens when we're in the field and one of us needs to be signalled."

"Yeah," piped up the surviving Corporal once more, "we can't just call out 'Hey you' and hope for the best."

The Sergeant rounded on them. "Well I won't just call out 'Hey you', will I. I'll add some distinguishing features like…height." The squad members surveyed each other from a distance, sizing each other up. Finally, they all came to one conclusion.

"I think we're all about the same height sir." informed the small Private, again including admiration in his tone.

The Sergeant thought once more, it must be said, with great difficulty. He was never taught about nicknames in basic training. These are the same people who told him to call his squad 'Ladies'. "Then…hair colour." he suggested.

"I don't think we can see our hair. Plus…I can't remember what my hair looks like." said the small Private, his annoying voice grating the ears of the rest of the squad. He did however make a good point; none of them could remember what their hair looked like.

"Yeah, me neither." agreed the Corporal.

"Whatever it was, I reckon mine looked horrible." droned the second Private in the corner. Wherever he was, it didn't sound happy.

"Does anyone have a birthmark on any particular place?" enquired the Sergeant, now getting a little desperate.

The Lieutenant had had enough. Whoever had decided to send down this idiot of a Sergeant had clearly gotten their wires crossed...or his. "I don't think we-"

"I do." interrupted the commanding officer. "I've got a birthmark on the tip of my-"

"Sergeant!" shouted the Lieutenant, the squad thankful for him doing so.

"How'd you know what it was called?" asked the Sergeant.

"Sir," began the Lieutenant calmly, wanting to end this thread of the conversation as quickly as humanly possible. "I don't think physical features will count. We're all conveniently wearing armour because it keeps our identities a secret, makes no assumptions about our history and on an unrelated note is a lot easier to animate."

"Well..." thought the Sergeant, looking down for inspiration as everyone does. It didn't help. "I guess we'll have to resort to calling ourselves by armour colour." It took a few moments before he realised that they were all wearing differing shades of Green, and a few seconds more before it dawned on the Sergeant that he only knew the name of one of those shades; Green.

"Perhaps nicknames would be good." suggested the small Private brightly, bobbing up and down. "I'm sure you'll be good at them sir."

"Son, your words are coming out of my mouth…because you're so far up my arse." It should be pointed out that the Sergeant was no stranger to suck-ups. The Private however was a stranger to insults in general.

"Very funny sir, you burned me bad." laughed the small Private, turning light red under his green armour, or whatever you call it.

"First things first, _**I**_ need a nickname. Something unique, cool and simple. It must have finesse, character and says something about my intelligence."

"I guess 'Einstein' is out of the question." muttered the Corporal.

"Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh...ooh!" jittered the small Private. "Ooh, we should call you 'Twelve'."

"Why's that?" asked The Commander.

"Because, out of a rating of ten," began the Private, "you're twelve." The Sergeant had been in several encounters where the enemy was tough, trained and outnumbered him three hundred million to one. Even so, nothing had made him as scared as he was of this little person. Just to be safe, he inched his way backwards to a distance he deemed acceptable. Unfortunately, the wall was in the way, so he had to make do with that.

"Right, to be frank," he assessed, "all of your suggestions sucked. They utterly, utterly sucked. You and Suck could go to see Sucker Punch, suck a frozen Coke through a straw and wear an 'I'm With Suck' T-Shirt. And you'd still have to pay for all the food and the tickets...which would suck" The squad quietly agreed; that was quite frank. "From now on, _**I**_come up with the nicknames."

* * *

><p><strong>Two and a half hours later…<strong>

No one had moved, nothing had been said and the Sergeant had come up with only one possible nickname; "Well, I guess since I'm a Sergeant...I should be called Sarge." It was at this moment that a sniper's bullet zoomed close to the Sergeant's head and hit the wall behind him. He didn't care who shot at him, he didn't care to go after them, all the Sergeant knew was that, whoever it was, didn't like him using that name and that he was not willing to die for it. "I guess it doesn't suit me anyway." he said, launching back down the difficult road to intelligent thought. There was really only one nickname that he had always wanted. This was his chance. "Maybe 'The Commander'."

"But that's longer than Sarge." complained the Lieutenant again but The Commander had already made up his mind.

"Maybe so, but I'm sure you boys will be more than happy to stand up for the two point three seconds it would take to shout out my name in the line of fire out of cover and in the direct path of enemy bullets, shells, grenades, missiles and searing plasma bursts just to signal me to retreat." The Commander glared at his Lieutenant for a moment before the silence was broken again.

"Sir, I think we need to act quickly to save you."

"What? Assassination?" The Commander ducked and weaved ridiculously.

"No, if your head goes any further up your arse then we'll be left without an ego to take cover behind." The Lieutenant chuckled to himself and the remaining Corporal sniggered but quickly stopped himself as he didn't want to be Swiss Cheese. The Commander paused to think of a clever comeback.

"Fuck you Lieutenant...Phill." he eventually decided. Not the best comeback, but definitely the worst.

"Actually sir, it's Peter Hill." said the Lieutenant dryly. He wasn't surprised that The Commander got his name wrong, what with everything that he had done since meeting them.

"Says here in my helmet 'Phill'."

"No, it says P. Hill." he corrected. "_**P. Hill**_." The Lieutenant hoped that this had gotten through to The Commander, his helmet couldn't be that thick. He then noticed that The Commander had taken out his rocket launcher and was carefully aiming it at the Lieutenant's feet. "I guess Phill works fine."

"I knew it would." I'm good at naming things." It was at that point that the only Corporal left leant closer to the small Private and the only other member of the squad who hadn't said a word to whisper a witty comment.

Unfortunately, all he could come up with was; "Think he can name the thing that's growing where his dick should be?" The Commander, being only four feet away and standing on the same noise-bouncing cave, heard the remark and turned to berate the Corporal vocally.

"Well now, what do we have here?" he began in true Sergeant fashion, just like he was taught. "And what do you wanna be called? Talkie McFuckmunch? Sucka MyDick? Likieda Anal? Scrabble Da-Ass? Kite-Ninja-Bitch-Under-The-Reach-Around-Sex...Fuck?"

"You swear too often sir."

"Load of crap! But I have to admire your balls."

"Not while I've got my strength, you won't." joked the Corporal, but it went unnoticed and The Commander continued.

"What are you called?"

"Ben Dover."

"Ben Dover?"

"Not on your life. It's actually Holden."

"What can I do with a first name? What's your last one?"

"McGroin."

"Holden McGroin."

"Better yours than mine." laughed the Corporal. This was totally worth the outcome.

"Son," began The Commander, "you tell me your name...or there won't be a person to give a name to."

The Corporal removed his previous thought.

"Harry Friend."

"Friend?" scoffed The Commander. He took a few steps towards the lonely Corporal, pretending to be taller than he actually was. He circled the lower rank just out of punching distance. "We have no friends here."

"I'm your friend sir!" cooed the small Private, hand high in the air, hopping to get attention.

"Eat dick, wiseass!" spat The Commander without looking.

"Right away sir!" and with that, the small Private ran to the dull one in the corner. No one looked because no one cared.

"It's Sunday school all over again." complained the dull Private, but, again, no one cared. The Commander continued his speech.

"No friends. Not you, not me, not the Reds, not the Blues, not that sock Phill wanks in whenever he thinks of his mummy."

"Hey!" piped Phill to no avail.

"I suggest another name. A tougher, powerful, angry name. Enemy!" he announced with a sense of occasion. To him, it was everything a soldier needed.

"That..." began the Corporal, "...is..." he continued, "...the worst name I have ever heard suggested to anyone for anything...ever...in the history of this war and I would be doing mankind a favour by ignoring your suggestion."

"But," rebutted The Commander, taking a step forward and brandishing his shiny rocket launcher, "as you know, my suggestions are final." The Corporal was thankful he was wearing armour or The Commander might've seen him sweat.

"Enemy it is sir." he enthused.

"Excellent!" The Commander moved along to the silent Private standing next to Enemy. "And you? Who are you?"

"Ooh, ooh! Sir, I'm afraid his voice filter and outgoing radio isn't working. He can't say a thing." said the small Private, enjoying it somehow. "But I can tell you his name."

"Yes, what's his name?"

" Name."

"Yeah, tell me his name."

"Name."

"First and last."

"Name."

"Fucks sake son," broke off The Commander, pausing this tennis match of a conversation, "you tell me that Private's name or _**you'll**_ be like a fart in a candle factory."

"Private Name."

"It don't be private here, you tell me his name or I'll fill you so full of rockets you'll make it back to Earth faster than the fleet."

"His name is Name."

"Bullshit."

"Name."

" Bullshit."

" Name."

" Bullshit."

" Name."

" Bullshit."

Needless to say, this could have carried on a lot longer if it hadn't been for Phill's interruption of; "Sir!"

"Hold on there," ordered The Commander, "we've got a wiser arse than you and I won't let him make me kiss it!"

"But his name _**is**_ Private Name." insisted Phill. "That is what he is called; _**Name**_."

"Then why the fuck didn't you tell me?" The Commander rounded on the small Private. Phill sighed. Why did he have to be stuck with the only Sergeant who was a few bullets short of a magazine? The Commander's next conversation thread didn't ease Phill's suffering. "You're weird Name...what's your first name?"

"Unknown." answered Phill.

"Wasn't he given one?"

"No sir, his first name _**is**_ Unknown." Even Phill couldn't believe it when he said it. "Private Unknown Name."

"Jesus son," said The Commander turning to Name, "I feel sorry for ya. From now on, you shall be called...Name."

Name attempted to discern how far they had come from giving him a nickname from his real name and in that second he realised three things; one: his nickname was his name; two: he hated everyone around him; and three: he hated everything around him, especially everyone. Unfortunately, he couldn't do anything about it so he remained quiet and decided to stare at the ground for inspiration. It didn't work.

"And who are you?" enquired The Commander to the small Private who was the only one who wasn't at ease. Even his helmet couldn't hide the wide grin that seemed to penetrate it.

"I am your mechanic!" cheered the soldier enthusiastically, with pride and a hint of a tone that can only be described as arse-kissing-er. "I am ready to do my duty inside and between the rank of Private to make you happy...because..._**I**_ am a Private."

"I think I might get you to vacuum this cave" started The Commander, working an insult into his sentence, "the way you suck up son." It didn't seem to have the desired effect.

"Yes sir, good one sir." piped the soldier happily. If anything, his hidden smile seemed to grow.

"And you name is?"

"Troy Virgil Parts, sir."

"Okay then," said The Commander without any interest, "you will be called Parts. Congratulations Private." and before Parts could say another word to him, The Commander walked to the last of the squad. Parts decided to reflect on his happy few seconds in private but also in earshot of everyone else.

"Oh my God. My own nickname!" he whispered in exclamation. "I'm so honoured to be given a name from the Commander. I shall always keep the name of Private Parts" He sighed at his luck. Then a thought occurred. "Wait." But nobody was interested and The Commander had moved on anyway to the sulking soldier.

"Who are you?" asked The Commander.

"Captain Larry." moaned the third Private. The Commander seemed to regret asking him any question at all, as did everybody else.

"Why do you sound so down?" he continued under duress. He tried to change the subject; "You should be happy to die for me."

"It's not that" droned the soldier in the corner. He paused and sighed as if it was an effort just to talk, let alone breathe. "It's the colour armour I was given. Its the wrong shade of green."

"Yes." agreed The Commander. Suddenly, the entire squad was interested, staring at the unique colour of his green. "It does look a little glum."

"Sludge-like." concurred Enemy.

"Repulsive." concurred Phill.

"Off-putting." concurred Parts.

Name nodded.

"Yet distinguished." admitted The Commander.

"Unique." concurred Enemy.

"Familiar." concurred Phill.

"Strong." concurred Parts.

Name nodded.

"It does look familiar." thought The Commander but whatever it was didn't come to him. "What do you think it is?" he finally asked the sulking soldier.

"It always seemed to be snot to me, but I don't want to talk about-"

"Snot!" interrupted The Commander, forgetting his squad member altogether. "That's what it is!"

"I thought so." concurred Enemy.

"Looked familiar." concurred Phill.

"Well put." concurred Parts.

Name nodded.

"You will be Snot." proclaimed The Commander, but resisted the urge to pat him on the shoulder. Snot thought about this name for a few annoying seconds in silence.  
>"Why?" he finally asked.<p>

"Because it suits you." pushed The Commander. Snot thought about this too.

"No it doesn't." he said bluntly.

"Yes it does." pushed The Commander again. Snot thought. He will do this a lot.

"I would really like to change that name." he said.

"Well, you tell me another name you would like in the next three seconds" said The Commander brightly, "and I will consider changing the name to one that-Whoops, time's up! You've got Snot." And with that, The Commander quickly walked back to the spot where he had landed. Snot, you guessed it, thought about the last few minutes he had spent on this planet and his luck so far. As he did the calculations, he looked to the ground for support. It didn't work.

"Right," addressed The Commander, "move out ladies-I'm sorry! Damn it! You're all men." He cleared his throat, ready to try that again. "Move out men."

Several seconds of silence and a lack of movement began and ended several seconds later. The Commander tried that again. "I said move out."

"Where to sir?" enquired Phill. This question seemed to get The Commander in a bind; even he didn't know where they should go. He checked over his options which were two caves that lead to the outside world, or at least the outside box valley.

"Umm...this way." he pointed to the right.

"That leads straight to the Red base." chimed Parts, happy with himself.

"Umm...ok," considered The Commander, "that way."

"That leads to the Blue base sir." chirped Parts.

"Ok, umm...this way." He pointed to the right.

"That leads to the Red base again sir." repeated Parts.

"Right, uhh..."

It was at this instance that Phill had had enough. "There are only two exits from this cave sir." he began, teeth gritted. "One leads to the Red base and the other leads to the Blue base, both of which are our enemies so if we do in fact move out from this spot we will be immediately shot on sight, so, for the moment, the only place we should really be moving out to should be...oh...um..._**here**_!" The squad looked from Phill to The Commander and back to Phill again in an awkward silence.

"Watch duty." snapped The Commander.

"Oh crap!" swore Phill. He didn't want to get killed this early.

"Ha-ha," teased Enemy, "you got watch duty."

"You go with him." ordered The Commander.

"Oh crap." echoed Enemy.

"Phill, watch his back," he looked between them, "and Enema, you watch his."

"Sir, its Enemy."

"It's a little difficult to remember."

"You gave it to me yourself!"

"Move out!" commanded The Commander. As Phill left the cave he was quite glad that even though he could get killed on watch, at least it wouldn't be around or by his 'superior officer' and instead by the enemy and Enemy...uh, the enemy troops and Enemy...Enemy and-Oh, fuck it. You get the point. As Phill entered the sunlight, he let out a sigh of relief; at least out here he could escape from his Sergeant's stupidity.

"And see if you can find another way out." boomed the voice of The Commander down the tunnel.

"Oh my God! You just don't fucking get it!"

It was a nice clear day outside the cave. Natural life carried on as it had for centuries on Halo. It was peaceful, silent, safe.

"Shit! This is a goddamn disappointment." shouted Enemy almost as soon as he saw the outside world.

"You were going to say that no matter what, weren't you?" asked Phill after shitting his armour then composing himself after realising that there was no one there to kill them.

"Everything's a goddamn disappointment to me." growled Enemy. "You were in basic, you tell me. Didn't those babes there just disappoint you?"

"I wouldn't know. I never saw their faces."

"Exactly!" shouted Enemy again. If he kept this up, Phill was gonna have to shoot him. "What about this place then? One valley, two bases, nothing and no one to fight against. Dis-a-fucking-pointing."

"Would you rather being shot at?" enquired Phill, already knowing the answer that was to follow. He just hoped that someone would hear Enemy talking and take a few pot shots almost entirely directed at his face.

"Hell yeah! I'd give _**anything**_ to have _**somebody**_ shooting at me."

"That can be arranged."

"Atten-tion!" shot The Commander. He paused, sniffing the air. "Why does it smell like shit out here?"

"Sir, there appears to be no one outside." informed Phill.

"They're all probably knee deep in their own piss, too afraid to stand up to a man like me."

"What kind of a man would that be?" enquired Phill to himself. "One with girl bits?"

"Goddamn disappointment." said The Commander.

"Told ya."

"I guess I should inform the other Corporal."

"The other Corporal is dead sir." said Enemy blatantly. "You shot him, remember?"

"Yes, that's right. Oh well, poor lad. At least he served his planet well...and will do so later when he's served at dinner."

"B-b-but what about the rations?" stammered Phill incredulously.

"Are you kidding?" argued The Commander. "I would never pass up fried Corporal over shitty rations! Fubar, you hear. Fubar."

"It doesn't matter what kind of bar they packed sir," rebutted Phill, "they were issued for a reason a-"

"Oh, shove a foot in it!" interrupted Enemy. "Bob's foot to be precise. And don't bother arguing with The Commander; he's gone." Phill looked up where The Commander had been. He had definitely already left.

* * *

><p>"Sautéed or fricasseed?" posed The Commander from within the cave. Enemy was joining him now, returning through the tunnel.<p>

Phill sighed; "The agony of choice." and joined his squad inside. They then proceeded to pluck the Corporal, roast him and pass him out.

"I want the wing." barked The Commander.

"There is no wing, he's not a chicken sir." corrected Parts.

"Private Parts, zip it!"

"Immediately sir."

"Who's got the ovaries?" enquired Phill.

"I think I got a pair." responded Enemy.

"I thought so."

"Pass me his pancreas." droned Snot. "It's about the most awful organ in the body and I want two."

"Name, what did you want?" asked Parts.

Name turned to Parts, seething through his armour at the idea that this idiot didn't remember that an hour ago he had explained that he couldn't talk at all.

"He doesn't want whatever you wanna give him. He needs a man's meal." stated The Commander. "Give him the goolies. Who's gotten hold if Bob's genitals?"

"As much as I would like to see where this goes sir," stopped Phill, "I think we should go over the battle strategy that Command gave us."

"Good idea. Put Bob's bits down everyone." Everyone continued to chew on Bob loudly. "There isn't really much to the orders. They simply say 'Win'."

"What? No plans, no strategies, nothing?"

"Winning _**is**_ a strategy Lieutenant. It's one I've used all my life in combat."

"And how many times has it worked?"

"Not sure really," admitted The Commander, picking at Bob's nails, "I never really stuck around much as they were going terribly bad on our end but I remain confident that we pulled through in the end and gave the enemy a thorough licking."

"You're sure?"

"Yes I'm sure; all the supplies were gone. What else were we going to eat?" enquired The Commander taking a bite out of Bob's big toe. "You're very wound up for a Lieutenant."

"I just prefer to be with a group of people who know what they're doing rather than a bunch of incompetents. I pray nightly for it."

"Oh good."

"God hasn't exactly answered my prayers as of yet but I hope he'll get round to me soon."

"Well, don't wait up. Now," The Commander returned to audience the squad, "there may be no guards on the outside but I can guarantee that they'll be waiting on the inside with God knows what weaponry at their disposal."

"Sir," began Parts, waving a hand in the air, "they'd probably have our level of weaponry; we're on the same team."

"People can go stir fry crazy when trapped in an enclosed space with a group of idiots running about." declared The Commander.

"Amen to that." breathed Snot.

"These soldiers may have broken off from us," continued The Commander, "and engineered their own firearms."

"So what you're saying," summarised Phill, "is that our own men and women stationed at Blood Gulch Outpost One have been fighting each other for so long that they got sick of each other and started fighting amongst themselves. Then they stripped themselves of all modern armoury and proceeded to create more advanced weaponry out of limited resources, namely; their armour, their guns, their rations, grass and a few pebbles; and are now presently residing inside their bases waiting to kill us."

"And your problem with this theory is?" enquired The Commander, tossing Bob's leg round in his hand.

Phill considered for a moment. "Nothing." he assured and went back to his dinner.

"Good," broke away The Commander, "now my strategy is to wait until nightfall and then enter the bases one at a time in a pincer movement; Phill and Parts will take the left, Enemy and Snot will take the right and Name will take the roof. You will trap our allies from within and kill them. Questions?"

"I know I don't have one sir." piped Parts. "I heard your plan and I loved it."

"Name, you're being awfully quiet." noticed The Commander. "Why don't you share your opinion?"

Name sat there in a sullen silence. In his mind, he dreamed of being far away on a distant woodland world. A slight breeze filtered the air and weaved the blades of grass like the waves in the ocean. The trees were green and the blue sky shimmered like sapphire. And then hundreds of naked women parachuted down from the sky.

It was at this point he realised just how unlikely that would be and remembered where he was and hated it.

Everyone else on the other hand thought he was being philosophical in his silence and liked it.

"Very profound." admired The Commander. "Right, I think you all agree and will be able to remember; we move out at nightfall."

* * *

><p><strong>Thirty-six hours later...<strong>

"Fuuuuuuuuuuck!" exclaimed The Commander. "It's still daytime!"


	2. Six Days, Seven Days

Red vs. Blue...vs. Green

Story One: I'm Living in a Cave

Chapter Two: Six Days, Seven Days

* * *

><p>As previously addressed in The Commander's last line; it is still daytime in Blood Gulch. His plan for infiltration at nightfall is only hindered by the fact that there is no night. By the weeks' end, none of them had slept much, especially The Commander. He had hoped for a nice quick assignment where he could rag, tag and kick the crap out of anybody who he hadn't already kicked the crap out of before...and then some. At this point he was getting a little desperate for action while everyone else was getting desperate for forty winks. No doubt it was a beautiful day outside the cave, but it was the same one. The squad had tried everything they could to get to sleep; counting sheep, counting rocks, trying to stay awake, which eventually only made them stay awake, and had finally achieved a state of unconsciousness by knocking each other out with their rifles. They were also running low on rations after finishing off Bob's earlobes. This was mainly due to The Commander, in his sleepless stupor, throwing the entire consignment out of the cave whereupon the birds ate it, died from food poisoning and was then eaten by the squad.<p>

They could no longer keep quiet about it; their strategy was about as effective as tickling a beetle with a submachine gun.

"I believe," began Parts annoyingly on some techno babbling ramble once more, "that Blood Gulch's position on the Halo is at such an angle that no matter where we are on the circumference when we spin, the sun's rays will always hit this area."

"Shit." said Enemy lazily. "It took you seven days to figure that out?"

"Well...yeah." replied a still somehow spritely Parts. "How long did it take you?"

"Never mind."

"I always believed that the sun was the eye overlooking the brightness of life." pondered Snot. "But then I came here and everything changed."

"What do you think it is now?"

"The sphincter of existence," admitted Snot, "constantly crapping light onto an ugly world."

"I thought that was just The Commander." said Phill. They all looked over at Snot's landing corner where The Commander now sat huddled and muttering. He had been like this for some time now and had decided not to interrupt him after Parts asked him why he was huddling there muttering and he attacked Parts. No one helped.

"That used to be my favourite corner." mourned Snot. "Now it's his. I hate him." There was a few seconds of thankful silence that was interrupted by Parts.

"You guys wanna play a game?" he enquired. No one answered. "Come on, a nice word game. I'll say a few words then you have to rearrange them into a sentence. Come on." he urged.

"Look Parts, we just wanna slee-"

"Come on!" urged Parts, interrupting Phill.

"Fine, go on then."

"Cool! Okay. My words are; Commander, love, The, I. Can you guess what it is? Can you? Can you?"

"No." said Phill bluntly and without any interest. "I cannot decipher your cryptic and boring message."

"I love The Commander!" proclaimed Parts. "You see; Commander, love, The, I? I love The Commander? I really got you there with that one."

"Yes, yes, okay!" snapped Enemy, having enough. "You really got us with that crap! Let's see if you can figure out mine, shall we? Umm...hmm...uhh...there we go! It, arse, up, shove, fucking, your." Parts had to think about this for a while.

"Where does the 'your' go?" he asked.

"Right, fuck it!" stated Enemy, standing from his sleeping position and picking up his rifle. "I've had enough of it in here, I want some action, I want to do something and I want to do it now! I do not want to end up living in a cave with the Earth's most rejected bunch of...of...rejects."

"You were going so well with that." commented Phill.

"Let's just shoot at something! Anything! Parts, you can volunteer."

"No way, I'm not that stupid." lied Parts.

"Fine, Snot you'll do."

"I'm afraid," began Snot on a slow admission, "that the bullets will get so bored of shooting at me that they'll drop to the floor on the grounds that they won't give a shit."

"Okay then, that leaves Name. I know I won't get a no out of you."

Name shook his head.

"Fuck!" shouted Enemy to the sky, or at least the cave roof.

"Belay that fuck!" ordered The Commander, springing to action. "I have formulated a plan to take over the enemy bases. It's so tight I could stick a lump of coal in it and make a diamond, kinda like Phill's butt." Phill didn't bother responding.

"Thank the Lord!" preached Enemy who then regained his dignity by gathering up what was left of his manhood and self control. "What's the plan sir?"

"We do exactly the same thing we were going to do before," he began, "but...we do it in daytime." This plan was met with silence.

"Sounds good to me." agreed Enemy.

"Second!" said Phill.

"Second second!" piped Parts.

"Alright, I guess." moaned Snot.

Name nodded in agreement.

* * *

><p>Five minutes and a quick bathroom break later, the whole squad was on the Blood Gulch plain, heading towards the Blue base.<p>

"It's so...blue." said Snot. "I hate blue."

"This is just a stab in the eternal sunlight of Blood Gulch," began Phill, "but you don't like anything do you?"

"No. There are a few things I like."

"Such as?"

"Pickles." Noises of disgust issued from everyone around Snot.

"Weirdo." muttered Phill who decided he wouldn't have anything more to do with Snot. They crept to the top of the small hill and peered over at the Blue base.

There was no movement but, as The Commander pointed out as he zoomed in with the scope on his sniper rifle; "There's an awesome mother of a tank! Look at those panels. I wonder if I could keep it and give it a girl's name? Nothing could stop me."

"Sir, it's not like you could blow up the world with it." assured Phill. "Remember the mission."

"Shut up, you're spoiling my fun." spat The Commander.

"The _**mission**_!" insisted Phill.

"Fine." gave in The Commander, lowering the sniper rifle. "Right, remember the pincer movement. Any questions?"

"Yeah, I do." said Enemy, a smile creeping over his face. "Does Barry Manillo know you-" he didn't get any further as Name hit him over the back of the head. Snot raised his hand childishly.

"Yeah, Snotty." pointed The Commander.

"Please," pleaded Snot, "don't call me Snotty. Isn't it enough torture that you get to call me Snot?"

"No." added The Commander subtly.

"My question is;" continued Snot, "how come you get the sniper rifle?" The rest of the squad paused and asked themselves the same question. The Commander scoffed at this question.

"Why shouldn't I?" he asked.

"Because you already have a shotgun," answered Snot, "and a pistol and a rocket launcher."

"What's your point?" enquired The Commander.

"Regulations insist that any officer no matter what rank can only be issued with two weapons." brained Parts.

"These are unique circumstances." explained The Commander.

"They explicitly insist two weapons and no more. You are carrying twice the recommended load."

"What's wrong with packing twice as much firepower?" posed The Commander which was met with a short pause before Enemy answered.

"Less for the rest of us." he said.

"Less for the rest?" spat The Commander. "And who's the rest then? You? Who are you? I'm a Commander!"

"You're a Sergeant!"

"Regulations state that the commanding officer, if cut off from a higher authority, can promote their personnel including him or herself. I'm the fucking commanding officer and I can promote myself to the rank of Commander any day."

"Commander isn't even a rank!"

"There's another good thing about being a superior officer," he teased, "I get to do stuff like this; Name!" Name smacked Enemy over the back of the head again. "Now shut the fuck up. You two;" he pointed to Phill and Parts, "left. You two;" he pointed to Enemy and Snot, "right. And you;" he pointed to Name, "the roof. We can't let these suckers escape our friendly hospitality."

"Sir." said Phill.

"Numb nuts." acknowledged The Commander.

"I have another question. Where exactly will _**you**_ be when we enter the base?"

"What kind of a question is that? I'll be right behind you, maybe at a safe distance, but still right behind." assured The Commander and retreated to the cliff-tops as his squad got into position. He was having a little trouble setting up the scope when Phill called in over the radio.

"_Sir, we're ready to purge the threat. Over."_ he whispered.

"What?" asked The Commander.

"_We are prepped to take out the two birds with one stone." _whispered Phill again.

"Pardon?"

"_Fuck it." _quit Phill. _"We're in position. What do you see?"_

"Your mum."

"_Fucking hilarious sir."_

"I've almost got the scope set up...hold on." He slipped the scope into place and peeked at the base. His eyes widened with horror. "Oh my God."

"_What is it Commander?"_

"They're waiting for you. Five of them."

"_Where? Sir, where are they? Give me a visual on the targets!"_

"Oh wait," sighed The Commander, "that's just you guys. Sorry. Okay, get in there." And in they went, storming into the Blue fortress. It was several seconds of bitter silence, and the only person The Commander could see through the scope was the figure of Name standing on the roof. Everything seemed to be going fine until the sound of gunshots rang through the air. The Commander tried to zoom in to see what was happening, but Name wasn't responding. "Come in!" he called. "Those were gunshots, what's happening?"

"_It's okay sir." _came Enemy's voice through the radio. _"Phill ran into a spider web and majorly freaked."_

"_This is no laughing matter." _argued Phill. _"That's some awful shit to happen. I hate spiders."_

"_Grow up Lieutenant."_

"_Grow up? That mother was a beast!"_

"_It was a daddy long-legs; small as my thumb."_

"_Most poisonous spider in the world, douchebag!"_

"_It can't even break skin! What makes you think it'll do any better with your armour?"_

"_What's a daddy long-legs doing on Halo anyway?" _asked Parts and since there is no good reason why there should be a daddy long-legs spider on an alien ring far away from its planet of origin, The Commander told him to shut up.

"Shut up. Regroup with me halfway." When the rest of the squad arrived halfway between the Red and Blue base, they found The Commander waiting for them. "What in the name of Honey-Suckle Ice-Cream took you so long?" he barked.

"How did you get down from that cliff so fast?" asked Phill incredulously.

"I jumped, that's how."

"That should've killed you!" complained Enemy. "I'm a little disappointed."

"I guess death couldn't hear me fall over the sound of how awesome I am!" showboated The Commander, flexing his muscles sickeningly.

"It's not unusual." droned Snot randomly. "I never die when I jump off of high things. I sometimes think it's death's way of having a joke with me...but then I realise it's God's world." Everyone ignored him and carried on.

"So, no one in the base?" continued The Commander. "Damn! Those two timing sons of bitches must've joined forces on us and split to the Reds. Now that base will have twice as much of a defence as the Blue base."

"Now let's see," mocked Enemy, "two times zero is..."

"I've tried to spy the enemy positions with my scope but they're so well hid up like a old nun's nuts."

"Nuns don't have nuts." corrected Parts.

"Congratulations Private," enthused The Commander menacingly, "you've just volunteered for an extra special mission."

"Oh boy!" jumped Parts excitedly. "What?"

"You get to draw enemy fire."

"Yay! Yeah! Wait, what?"

"Private Parts," said The Commander simply, "I want you to expose yourself to the enemy."

* * *

><p>"Argh! Aaaah! Oh my God! Sugar honey iced tea! Mother father sister brother! Fudge! Son of a beach!" wailed the jogging Private Parts as he careened his way over the hillside and around the Red base. Behind him sat, quite relaxed, the rest of his squad members, watching the Private run in circles. "I hate you all! Except you Commander!" he shouted over his own confusion.<p>

After this had been going on for five minutes, The Commander had come to this conclusion; "I guess there are no defences."

"Should I tell Parts to cut it out then?" asked Enemy. The Commander had to think about this.

"Would you?" he asked simply and moved out towards the Red base. Enemy shrugged and followed him, the rest of the squad right behind.

They passed Parts one by one in a single file; "You're doing fine Private!" shouted The Commander over Part's wails of terror.

"Lookin' good!" wooed Enemy.

"Keep up the good work!" enthused Phill.

"You're a credit to society." droned Snot.

Name shook his head, feeling sorry for this poor excuse of a man, but didn't care enough to stop.

"There's nobody here!" complained The Commander. He began bashing the wall with the butt of his rifle. "This is an insult! Who will I kill now?" He began firing madly into the air, roaring and barking. Phill, Enemy, Snot and Name just stared in amazement as their commanding officer made a complete arse out of himself.

"So what do we do now?" asked Phill, turning his attention to the others.

"I guess," summed up Enemy, "we wait." So they did in silence, or at least as close to silence as you can get when your commanding officer is shooting at the sky and your mechanic is screaming and 'almost' swearing whilst running in circles trying to avoid an enemy that doesn't exist. Yes, he was still doing it.

It was Snot who broke the silence with; "Bullets come down, don't they?" They all looked up at the skylight that The Commander was shooting through and, considering that fact, took a safe step back under cover. A few seconds later, The Commander stopped firing.

"Bout time I ran outta bullets." he puffed, changing the magazine. "Have you ever heard of those guns that never run out of bullets? Insane, isn't it? What do they have; a small factory where small people make large bullets inside the mag?" he sighed. "Anyway, I'm moving out to the Blue base."

"What's so special about the Blue base?" questioned Phill.

"Their strategic position." answered The Commander in an obvious tone. "Also, they've got a nice tank." he added. "Name, you're coming with." Name followed The Commander towards the exit.

"Hold on!" complained Phill annoyingly. "How come he gets to go?"

"Because he has two redeeming factors over you; his gun and his ability to shut his fucking face." And with that, he and Enemy left the Red base and a stunned Phill behind. He hadn't ever met an officer with this much attitude in his life.

"I can shut up," he whimpered to himself, "I just like some noise is all."

Outside, Parts was still running and screaming for his life. It wasn't in jeopardy, he was just stupid.

"Private Parts!" called The Commander, standing nearby with Name. Parts couldn't hear The Commander's call over his own screams. "Private Parts! To attention!" called The Commander again to no avail. He decided a different strategy was called for. So he pulled out his service pistol and fired it directly at Parts' head. With a direct hit, Parts fell to the ground, silent but ultimately physically unharmed. This is impossible, but it happened so deal with it. Parts slowly got to his feet, and stood shaking.

"You shot me, sir!" he complained in a high pitched voice too manly for him.

"I'm glad you noticed." retorted The Commander. "If you hadn't, I'd have had Name here aim for something a little more personal, Private Parts."

"There's no need to be specific, sir."

"Shut up and follow me." said The Commander and he and Name began trekking across Blood Gulch with Parts trailing behind.

"Why are we going to the Blue base sir?" he asked rather stupidly.

"We're going because they've got one heck of an asset with that tank of theirs. It could prove to be a valuable piece of machinery when you clean it up. And their base may have strategic value of some sort or some such nonsense..." tailed off The Commander. "Until then, I want the coms systems off."

"But regulations clearly state that the helmet communications systems must remain on at all times." informed Parts.

"I want to enjoy this tank in peace." said The Commander smoothly.

"But regulations clearly state-" repeated Parts before The Commander interrupted him.

"Regulations don't apply to us Private." he said simply. "Next thing you'll be telling me is that wearing green as our armour colour is against regulations."

"But wearing green _**is**_ against regulations sir."

"Bullshit son, Master Chief wears green all the time. Fucking hog."

"Because he's been specially issued with it sir, we haven't."

"Well, seeing as Command monitors our communications, and seeing as we are in violation of armour colour coding," joked The Commander, "would you really want to report to them accidentally that you are in breach of said regulations and be court martialled?"

"...Perhaps it is better the coms are off. Enemy transmissions and all." agreed Parts and they strolled on to the Blue base.

The Commander may seem to lots of people he meets, namely everyone, to be a walking/talking accident waiting to happen. Even though most people, namely everyone, are correct in that assumption, he does have a very active mind when focused. At this very moment it was and he had three questions in mind; 'Where were the Blues and Reds?', 'If they're gone, who took a pot shot at him in the cave?' and 'Who else could he eat?'

* * *

><p>"Wow." said Enemy simply, slack jawed and gaping at the creation in front of him.<p>

"Wow." commented Phill, standing next to Enemy, same goofy expression slapped over his face. Luckily for them, they were helmeted.

"Wow." droned Snot with a hint of surprise, which was unusual as he was never surprised. "It looks even more terrible than it did in the training guide."

"I've lost all respect for you now." said Enemy bluntly.

"You never had any respect for me in the first place."

"True." he finished and proceeded to ignore Snot for the rest of the day.

"I drove it once in basic." explained Phill. "The handling is smooth as a baby's bottom."

"I hate it when people say that. Makes them sound like a molester."

"Fine. Umm...it was as smooth as your bottom. That better?"

Enemy thought about this. "Close enough."

"They never let me drive it." said Snot.

"Don't you have your licence?" asked Phill after Enemy refused to answer.

"No, they just wouldn't let me drive it."

"Tell me," began Phill, suddenly and inexplicably struck with interest, "how did you get into this war?"

"I'm the Master Chief's illegitimate son."

"Really?" enquired Phill incredulously at this claim.

"No." answered Snot. "I'm openly pessimistic about everything...and I'm a constant liar."

"So, do you really think this jeep is really terrible?"

"Yes." he answered, adding; "But I wouldn't trust the source of that claim." They were in fact all staring at the jeep sitting quietly on the lawn. Not only did they have to admire its design but the large mounted heavy machine gun in the rear. It was a sight for sore eyes, considering that all their eyes were sore after a sleepless week. The trims, the gun, the headlights, the tusks.

"What do we do with it?" enquired Enemy.

"I think we should name it." decided Phill. "If The Commander gets to name the tank then we should be able to name this."

Enemy thought for a moment, surfing through possible names in his head, before deciding upon; "The Warthog."

"Phht!" scoffed Phill. "That's a stupid name for it! Where'd you hear that?"

"I just thought-"

"No, you didn't." pointed out Phill. "This thing doesn't even look like a Warthog."

"But the tusks...!"

"Sure, tusks. One thing. You don't want to name a car after a pig, it's just indecent to the car and those driving it."

"How's about the Nissan Disappointment?" suggested an ignored Snot.

"It's fast, unlike a pig." continued Phill. "It's smooth, unlike a freaking warthog and it has wheels, unlike a warthog."

"Oh yes, and I'm sure _**your**_ animal has wheels for feet as well!" teased Enemy. "Just out of a lack of curiosity, what _**is **_your animal name?"

"The Puma."

"Oh for Christ's sake! That doesn't sound threatening at all!"

"Oh yeah, and Warthog does? Here comes a Warthog to destroy us! Oh no, I don't know what to do! Should I walk away because running would be too quick for it or turn it into bacon?"

"I hate bacon." included Snot.

"At least it won't have the enemy in stitches when you arrive," continued Enemy, "after laughing at it with a name like Puma! Oh no, watch out! Here comes a giant pussy!"

"You're a pussy, you pussy!"

"You're a pussy!"

"You're a pussy!"

"You're a pussy!"

"You're a pussy!"

"You're a pussy!"

Needless to say, this keeps going on for a while. So until Phill and Enemy move onto something more interesting, we will.

Over at the Blue base, Parts had already begun work on the tank, or at least he would have if it weren't for one small problem;

"I don't know how to use tools." he said bluntly to a pissed off Commander. This was the last thing he wanted to hear.

"What do you mean 'You don't know how to use tools'?" he asked through gritted teeth. "You're the mechanic. Weren't you taught in basic training?"

"Yeah...but no." thought Parts.

Name looked down at the ground; it was going to be a long day.

"That tank looks like it's taken a few hits," pointed out The Commander, "so the Blues must've used tools. You can learn first-hand."

Parts shook his head. "No sir, they had no tools."

"Then how'd they repair it?"

"From as far as I can tell, they shot it." The Commander could not believe this.

"They..._**shot**_...their vehicle to repair it." Parts nodded. "Where the fuck's the logic in that?"

"I don't know sir. It isn't even listed in the guidebook."

"But did it work?"

"Well...yes." stammered Parts, unsure where this was going. "I guess, if the tank is still able to operate, it must've worked."

"So," sneered The Commander, "what are you going to do then?" Parts thought about this for a moment. He then began shooting the tank back together.

* * *

><p>"You're a pussy!"<p>

"You're a pussy!"

"You're a pussy!"

"You're a pussy!"

"You're a pussy!"

"Shut up!" shouted The Commander, returning from Blue base. "You're both pussies. I on the other hand prefer to think of myself as a Panther; a hunter gatherer with a killer instinct and a killer bite, but at the same time a family man who looks after his cubs. The kind of jungle cat who won't settle until he's got the best cave in the land, preferably overlooking a stream of some sort, or a field where prey come to graze so that way I won't have to go far to get a warm meal. And then my bitch wife leaves me, taking half the meat in the settlement and leaving me with nothing but the fur on my back." The Commander paused to sigh. "What's this all about anyway?"

"Commander," began Enemy, "will you please tell this wet bed of a Lieutenant that this jeep is called a Warthog."

"Hmm..." considered The Commander. Even Name was thinking about it. Finally, The Commander said; "Looks more like a Puma to me."

"Fuck!" shouted Enemy.

"What did you say?" snapped The Commander.

"I said 'fuck'."

"Oh good," relaxed The Commander, "I thought you said something rude." He returned to the jeep. "Yes, looks like a Puma. What do you say, Name?"

Name nodded in agreement.

"You know, I had more fun in the cave." said Enemy and decided to live there.

"Oh," complained Snot, "I wanted the cave."

Parts had by now shot the tank back into shape and was ready to turn it on. He flicked the switch and it was...in more than one way.

"Hello there." it said. "My name is Sheila. You've repaired me!" she noticed excitedly.

"It was the least I could do after The Commander threatened to blow my bits off." replied Parts. "I didn't have any tools so I had to shoot you back together. Sorry."

"That's fine." assured Sheila. "At least you had the courtesy to do it while I was switched off unlike my previous owners. It was painful, or it would have been if I could feel anything."

"Do you know where they are?" asked Parts hopefully.

"No, I don't know where they are. Who are you?"

"My name is Parts, I'm with the Green squad."

"Hmm," admired Sheila suspiciously, "I like your armour."

"Thanks." said an embarrassed Parts. "I...uh...like your cannon."

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she said, shocked. "I didn't know it was showing." She giggled girlishly. Parts joined in, the embarrassment washing away. He really had to admire this tank, she had some nice qualities.

On his way to the cave, Enemy had decided to take a closer look at the Blue tank. When he arrived, he realised it had been a mistake. "That's just fucked up." he said awed at the sight of Private Parts using his shoulder to polish the giggling tank's cannon.

"That's the spot." she said. Enemy ran as fast as he could away from this particular area without looking back for fear of seeing something even more disturbing. This however didn't stop his imagination imagining more disturbing images and he was haunted by them for the next few hours...and every hour afterwards.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Phill and The Commander were on their way to Blue base to check on Parts' progress.<p>

"Hope he's doing a bang up job." commented The Commander.


	3. Love and Tank

Red vs. Blue...vs. Green

Story One: I'm Living in a Cave

Chapter Three: Love and Tank

* * *

><p>"What do you think the meaning of life is?" asked Snot, leaning closer to Name. They were guarding the rooftop of the Red base and at least one of them had been enjoying the nice, calm silence before the other opened their mouth. "You know what I think it is?" continued Snot in his low tone that made him sound like a cow mooing. "I think the meaning of life is; paperclips. They're very ugly looking things, all bent and curved. They're easy to break and destroy their shape which makes them look even more ghastly and they hold together large piles of paperwork that you don't want to do. They use them to clip the toe-tags on dead people's toes when they die. It's like life; it's ugly, twisted, easy to destroy and bend out of shape and all it does is bring you lots of work that you don't wanna do anyway and you end up dead in the end." He paused and sighed. "Its life." he said simply and sunk into silence.<p>

If Name could say any words at his disposal, he would pick out a few choice ones he'd been saving up for an opportunity like this. But now, at last, he could guard this roof with Snot in peace and qui-

"What do you think the meaning of paperclips are?" asked Snot. "Name?" he said several seconds later, but by then Name had already made his way downstairs and was walking towards the first hill. Name stood on the top and kept watch from there. At least two things had gotten better; he couldn't hear Snot talking anymore and he could see what was happening at the Blue base more clearly. The Commander and Phill had just pulled up in the jeep in front of the tank and were talking to Parts.

Parts was sweating inside his armour. If he didn't stop soon, he would surely drown. The Commander of all people had just arrived at a very awkward moment. Right now, he was sitting in the cockpit of the tank. Nothing suspicious about that, but that isn't actually the case.

"Nice Puma you got there." commented the nervous Parts about the jeep The Commander and Phill had just hopped out of.

"Fuck you!" drifted the voice of Enemy from the cave. How he heard that comment was and will remain a mystery.

"Thank you son." said The Commander, dusting his rifle. "Where are y-Oh, there you are!" He hadn't noticed Parts in the tank. "Private Parts, you're in the tank."

"You have no idea." whispered Parts under his breath.

"How are the repairs going? Working hard?"

"Yes sir, most definitely sir."

"She giving you any trouble?"

"What?" shouted Parts, almost standing but thinking it better not to. "How did you know?"

"How did I know what?" enquired The Commander.

"Oh, nothing." said Parts, shaking his head and acting obviously and suspiciously guilty about something. "Nothing at all."

"Can we take her for a spin?" asked Phill. "I'd really like to hop into that pit and give her a once-over."

"You get your own fucking tank!" shouted Parts before The Commander had a chance to insult Phill first. He would have thanked Parts for this if it weren't for the fact that he was acting very suspiciously.

"Do you mind turning her on for a moment?" he asked. "Just so we can see how she handles."

"I've already done that. Oh, y-you mean power? S-sure." stammered Parts. "Let me just..." he began flicking switches to warm up Sheila. The engine started but it wasn't quite the right pitch. It sounded almost like someone on helium miming a tank engine. It wasn't long at all before Parts realised it was Sheila giggling with delight. She soon broke out in laughter, obviously tickled by Parts' fiddling with the controls.

"Stop it!" she gasped. "That tickles. Do it like you did it before." Parts attempted to cough over that last part but failed miserably.

"Well, it looks like I'll have to make a few more checks before-" he said, hurriedly trying to divert the conversation but Phill beat him to it.

"Hold on a second." he said. "Is there something going on with you and this tank?"

"'_**You and this tank'**_?" scoffed an offended Sheila. "My name is Sheila and this is my hubby."

"Hubby?" exclaimed Phill.

"He was just giving me a touch up before you guys came." she continued. "Pity you did, he could have finished in time." The Commander and Phill stood in a stunned silence. That last statement was wrong in so many ways that their brains couldn't handle the whole wrong-ness of the entire situation. The next piece of information, they would soon discover, was one they could have lived without.

"Are you half naked in that cockpit?" queried The Commander cautiously as if Parts would prove it physically.

Parts was finding it difficult to answer; "Uhh...mmm...nnn...yes. Yes I am."

Phill leaned in closer to The Commander. "I think you can take it for a spin first, sir."

"Don't be mad with me sir." pined Parts desperately. "She's just a really nice girl and she understands me. You know I will always remain by your side in combat, take a bullet in the line of fire and hold your hand on the toilet. You'll find someone for yourself soon, don't you worry." None of this was getting through to The Commander. Phill at first thought that maybe his armour had rusted into place, he was standing so still. Sheila and Parts drove to the other side of the base for a bit of privacy.

"Sir, are you all right?" asked Phill. He was very concerned that The Commander had died of shock, but wasn't too relieved to hear him speak.

"Mother...fucking...bitch-face." he said simply.

Name wasn't doing much better from his hilltop. Everything he'd seen had caused him to go rigid, but his silence was just normal. Snot had just managed to find a sniper rifle lying handily yet dangerously on the floor. He picked it up and held it out to show Name.

"Look what I found." he said, somehow disappointed. Name wasn't turning around. "Name, look what I have."

Name turned and stared at Snot, somehow showing his shock over his helmet. Snot was slightly happy to see him so distressed.

"What is it?" he asked.

Name pointed to his eyes then to the great bulk in the distance that was the tank. Snot understood the message and looked through his scope. Everything seemed to be normal; the Blue base, Phill slapping a prone Commander, the tank and Parts inside it. Why is he pulling that lever so violently? He'll probably break it right off if he doesn't-

Slowly, Snot lowered the sniper rifle and pointed it towards the cliff side just in case he accidentally shot the rifle. What he had just seen made him hate this world even more. What made it worse was that he had seen it through the double zoom of the scope.

**BANG!**

The sniper rifle went off. Luckily, it was pointed at the cliff.

"Argh!" echoed the sound of Enemy's voice. "You fucking shot me!"

* * *

><p>A week in action and he was shot by one of his own squad members. Snot of all of them. This was gonna bite his arse until the day he died, and then even more when his punishment in hell was to share a room with Snot. To make matters worse, The Commander was the only one who had a spare medical kit and had decided to join Enemy in the cave to help apply it. What he actually meant to say was 'bitch about Parts falling for a tank' which is exactly what he was doing now.<p>

"How the hell could he fall for a tank?" roared The Commander. "I mean, it's a tank! Not a woman, not a porn mag, not a vibrator; a tank!"

"Maybe he just likes his women with a lot of trunk space." joked Enemy who was still in a lot of pain.

"This is no time to joke smart-arse!" insulted The Commander testily. "That beast has stolen one of my best men. It was supposed to be _**my**_ tank! My bloody tank!"

"How the hell could Snot hit me without aiming?" Enemy asked himself but received no answers from The Commander.

"She's a freaking cougar! He's way too young for her! I could see rust on her exhaust, and I wonder how long it's been since she's had that cleaned out!"

"Wasn't it gusty outside? That should've curved the bullet further east." questioned Enemy.

"I bet she's just got him there to do repairs. That's all these old tanks want now-a-days; repair jobs all round. Sure, they act all nice and lovey-dovey with their hooker names but once you get inside them, you can't get out. That's their _**real**_ weapon! Not a cannon, but their voices. They use it to rattle our minds! I never heard anything like this coming from male tanks, they're respectable!"

"I can't even see the entrance from here!" said a confused Enemy. No matter which way he looked at it, there just didn't seem to be a way that Snot could have shot him.

"Can you stop focusing on your problems for one second?" complained The Commander, finally acknowledging Enemy. "This is a real emergency!"

"Oh yes, because bullet wounds aren't deadly at all!"

"It's only a fucking graze! Be a man, bit your lip and swear frequently under your breath until a scab forms!" The Commander paused, catching his breath. "He was my Private, _**my **_suck-up...and he had to go and steal _**my**_ tank. What do you think I should do?"

"I can only tell you your problem because you don't know what it is." said Enemy, turning to The Commander.

"Bullshit, I know my problem. It's...uhh...Parts. He's got my tank."

"Wrong."

"I am never wrong; I'm a commanding officer, I'm always right. Right armed, right winged, right stuff. I'm fucking hung to the right!"

"Too much sir, too much." said Enemy, shaking the image from his head. "But rank doesn't cut the cheese this time. Your real problem isn't with Parts stealing your tank; it's the tank stealing your Parts."

The Commander whimpered slightly. "He was my Private Parts." He sat down next to Enemy, sniffing his nose. "I didn't even get to slap him around as much as I wanted."

"You want your Private Parts back, don't you?"

"Yes."

"He was the first one who really appreciated you, wasn't he?"

The Commander was on the verge of tears. "I just don't know what to do!" he moaned, falling over the edge. He cried and cried, shooting the cave with his rifle. "He was my Parts!" he shouted as he showered the walls with bullets. Enemy just closed his eyes and hoped he didn't get another wound. Thankfully, The Commander ran out of ammunition and rested his gun on his lap. "What do I do?"

"I'll tell you a little story." said Enemy to the disappointment of you, the reader. Just because I know how tired you are of characters engaging conversations with long, boring storied from their past which you know nothing about, I will try to narrow it down as much as possible and put as many immature jokes in there as possible.

The edited version of Enemy's story was as follows; "Before I joined up with Command, I was living in this small town. Erckville or Murckville or some bogus name that sounded like it was from a Tim Burton film. There was this girl and _**my God**_ she was hot. So hot that whenever I thought about her...whoa...I got a mother of a boner. Anyway-Argh!"

"Your wound?" asked The Commander, checking for bleeding.

"No, I just got a boner. It's sticking into my armour." said Enemy, shifting his body a little. "That's better. So, she was there, I was there and the sexual tension between us was off the scales, but I decided to wait a while until I settled in. Five days later; I catch her with my best friend having sex in my bed."

"Damn, that's tough." agreed The Commander. "What'd you do to him?"

"Who?"

"Your best friend?"

"Oh. no." corrected Enemy. "My best friend was a woman."

The Commander was confused. "So what did you do?"

"I joined in." Enemy chuckled cheekily to himself, loving the story he told and feeling so happy that it was true. Even though it wasn't. The Commander on the other hand wasn't so much as thrilled as he was annoyed.

"How the hell does that help me?"

* * *

><p>Snot gazed around the Red base, the sunlight glaring at him. He had been given a mission, about the most important and only mission he had ever received during his time in Blood Gulch. It was simple but it was vital to the boredom of his fellow squad members. His mission; count to ten and seek the other members of his team from their hiding places.<p>

"You know," he droned to thin air, "I was always very good at hide and seek. Not the seeking bit, but I was an expert at the hiding. No matter where I hid I was never found."

"That's because no one wanted to find you!" shouted the voice of Phill. He had gotten tired of watching inter-elemental relationships at the Blue base so he decided to enjoy the immense amount of fun at the Red base. Unfortunately, he had been kidding himself. "Hurry up and find us already, my legs are getting cramped kneeling behind this boulder."

"What's the point of playing this game and trying to find you when the only hiding places are behind those two rocks?"

Phill paused. "You still don't know which one of us is behind which rock." he explained. "Guess who's behind which rock. Come on, it'll be fun."

"I highly doubt that." sighed Snot. "Anything concerning a lack of imagination and me is considered to be agonising at the very least."

"Just get on with it and you can hide next!"

"But how do I say which rock is which?" posed Snot.

Phill poked his head up from behind the rock to the right and began running to Snot. "For fucks sake!" he cursed as he reached the annoying Private. He turned and faced the rocks. "Right, that one is left," he pointed to the right rock, "and that one is right." he pointed to the left rock. "Got it?"

"Well, no." admitted Snot. "You got your left and right mixed up."

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did."

"No I-Anyway! Never mind that then! We'll just say that the one I was behind is one and the one Name is behind is two. Okay?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't help Name much, does it?"

"What do ya mean?"

"He's over there, he probably didn't hear us."

"Fine." Phill turned to the left rock. "Name, your rock is number two!" he paused, seeing if Name understood. He didn't. "No, not toilet number two! Just a regular number two! Don't take a shit behind there, what if I wanna swap?"

"I think swapping is out of the question now." commented Snot.

"Your _**rock**_ is _**called**_ number two! Do ya get me?"

Name stood up from behind his rock, glared at Phill for a moment, then hid behind it again.

"Yeah, right, good. You do that you pudgy, mime-ie bastard." He turned back to Snot. "Problem with that?"

"Meh." whined Snot. Phill sighed. "It's not so much _**me **_ who has the problem as it might be _**you**_."

"Me?" exclaimed Phill. "How could I have a problem with it?"

"Well, you could have difficulty with the numbers."

"What the fuck kinda problem can I have with them? It's simple; one, two! It doesn't need a slide rule or a fucking compass. It's just two numbers."

"Left and right are two directions...and you still managed to stuff them up." Phill paused, shocked at how good a point Snot had just made. He hated that. Now he had to think of some way to identify each rock, and the idea came. He turned, took out his pistol and shot Name's rock. He turned back to Snot.

"One with bullet, one without." he sneered. "I hope you got that, otherwise we'll make you a hiding object and I'll be very happy identifying you using the turret on the back of the Puma. Got it?"

"Yep."

"Good." And with that, Phill turned and walked back to his rock. Along the way, he spied Name standing up from his crouched position, shooting a death stare right at him. Phill quickly hid behind his rock again as Snot slowly and numerically incorrectly counted to ten. "Come on," he whispered across to Name, "how else was I supposed to get him off my back?"

Name didn't reply. At least, not with words.

"I didn't actually shoot you, did I?"

Name still didn't reply.

"You would have done the same thing."

Name still didn't reply.

"Be thankful he's-Argh, screw it!" ended Phill who turned away from Name.

Name, who didn't say anything just to piss Phill off, decided that he had achieved that goal and ducked back down behind his rock.

As you may have noticed, that little bit between Phill and Name took longer than ten seconds to get through and was more than enough time for Snot to turn around and see Name standing behind his rock. Thankfully, everyone at Blood Gulch is terrible at numbers, so they were taking an awful risk playing hide and seek; the seeker could be counting to ten for hours. Phill was actually quite lucky in that he guessed two came after one. Anyway, it was now that Snot finished counting and turned around. "Hmm..." he teased, hating this game and wanting the others to remain hidden forever. "Where...could...they..." he paused for effect, "...be?" Phill sighed, he knew what Snot was up to. "They're just _**so**_ good at hiding, _**I**_ don't think I could ever find them."

"Hurry up!" shouted Phill.

"They must be experts at this game, I could never guess where they are. Are they in the base?"

"You know we're out here, you jackass!"

"Could they have snuck back to the Blue base?"

"Not while our friend over there is getting their fix...and the tank as well."

"Perhaps they've gone to see how Enemy is dealing with his injury."

"No, we thanked you for that. Now hurry up and find us. Don't make me shoot you too!"

"But even if they had," continued Snot, even more loudly, "I might never find them-"

"I'll do it!"

"-because they're _**so**_ great at staying hidden-"

"Shut up!"

"-that I'll never fi-" Phill opened fire on Snot who danced around the bullets as they impacted near his feet. "All right! What the fuck? Cut it out!"

"Dance!" shouted Phill in a western accent. "Come on, mother fucker!" He reloaded almost as fast as he does in bed and began shooting again. "Come on runt! You can dance better than that!" At the end of his second clip, he decided to conserve ammunition for later when he could actually shoot Snot. The Private in question huffed and sighed at his failure to die because of his will to live. Still, this wasn't the way he wanted to go, so he pointed at the rock to the left.

"Bullet hole rock! Name, you're behind it! You're in!" he stammered quickly before jogging away from Phill and almost diving behind Name's rock.

Name didn't take too kindly to that, so he knocked him out from behind cover. Snot scrambled back behind the rock and Name left, walking back to Snot's counting area. He shot another death glare at Phill who didn't notice. Phill thought it was a glare of thanks.

"No problem," he said quite wrongly as it obviously was for Name, "I just had to get rid of him. Sure you don't mind." he added and knelt calmly behind his unscathed rock.

Name stopped and started counting...so, as you can guess, there was a long pause of silence.

"How will we know when he's done?" asked Snot. "He doesn't talk anymore."

"We'll find out when he-" began Phill but was interrupted by the loud gunfire originating from Name's rifle. Phill decided to take cover, realised he was already behind cover, and wished that Snot had been here so he could take cover behind him. Name continued showering the rock with bullets with such ferocity that he was being pushed back by the recoil. After ten seconds of shooting, Name released the trigger and waited.

Slowly, and with slightly wetter pants, Phill emerged from his rock, panting and staring incredulously at the calm Name, his rifle still pointed at the rock. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" asked Phill politely.

Name had only one reaction; he pointed with his rifle at the rock face.

Phill turned around to see the words 'FOUND YOU BITCH' written in bullet form on the rock. How Name had managed to do this as neatly and accurately as he had was beyond Phill. He turned back to Name who simply nodded at him. He'd found Phill.

* * *

><p>"How exactly does this work?" asked Parts. It had only just occurred to him that Sheila was a tank; a machine, a vehicle. The only riding that should be involved is the type where you use a seatbelt. Everything was fine, no doubt about that. They were great at talking, she was brilliant at listening and he didn't have to stand up to fellas who hit on her because she could run them over or use her cannon. The only thing that was nagging him at the back of his head was the fact that the only physical interaction they'd had so far was sitting in the cockpit and she would make pleasurable noises while he flicked switches and turned knobs. This seemed slightly disconcerting. How much further could they take it? "I mean, do I put it in your exhaust pipe?"<p>

"I'm battery operated." she replied.

"So was my last girlfriend, but at least I knew what went where." commented Parts. They both thought about this. Unfortunately, he thought too much about it and came up with his; "Are you one of those transvestite tanks who has the female voices? I ask because of the cannon; it just seems too much like a whang, you know? Do you misfire?"

"No, I'm definitely a woman." assured Sheila, a little insulted. "Besides, what would I be without my cannon?"

"More of a female substitute." answered Parts. He soon regretted this five seconds later when he shat himself after Sheila shot a cylinder off loudly. "I'm sorry, baby." he patted her hood soothingly. "We'll just have to work through it. Think of the children."

"We can't have children."

"God, why is it always about what _**you**_ want?" snapped Parts. He hopped off her and stalked off a few metres away.

"Hey, come on!" called Sheila. "I want children some day, just not with you. Mainly because it's physically impossible."

"I'm sorry." apologised Parts, turning around. "I guess I'm a little torn; on one hand there's you and on the other hand there's The Commander and my duty to him. How do I choose?"

"Does he have sex with you?"

"I'm hoping he'll put out eventually."

"There you go!" confirmed Sheila. "No sex, no sale."

Parts considered this. "But...we can't have sex either."

"Hey, when did this become all about sex, huh? You need to think about the important aspects of this; emotions, the situation, spare parts."

"I just wish he was more aware of me and my needs. Sometimes I think he doesn't even acknowledge my existence."

"I can run him over for you." suggested Sheila.

"I want him to notice me, not be a 2D character."

"Why not get both?"

"Sheila, no running over The Commander."

"All I'm saying is that a few tread marks will get him to notice you _**real**_ good." Sheila moaned, tired of talking about this. "You should make a decision now. And when you do, launch into it with some drastic action. Be impulsive about it so you can be really sure you want it."

"Fine. I've done it." said Parts proudly.

"Wow, that was quick. So, what is it?"

"I want to marry you, Sheila." announced Parts. Sheila was shocked, all of her valves had sprung a leak. "I thought about it while you were talking about the important parts of a relationship. I don't know, I wasn't listening, _**but**_," he continued, "it'll be fun. We can rent a cave all of our own and I can engineer a small tank family for us with cannons in their chests and a rotatable head that can spin three-sixty degrees. What do ya think?"

"I think..."began Sheila, "...that this...is...the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me." She began to get caught up in the excitement. "Yes, I will marry you!" she said ecstatically, firing more shells into the air.

* * *

><p>"Rest assured, nothing major will happen between them." assured Enemy. "Do you know what you have to do?"<p>

"Yeah." said The Commander confidently. "I need...to ask you what to do."

Enemy sighed and turned back to him. "You say that you're his commanding officer and that he must listen to you no matter what."

"Should I?"

"Why not? It's true."

"Right, I forgot that." The Commander had another thought. "But what if he ignores me?"

"Then you grab your Private Parts and tell him that he can't ride in your tank!" enthused Enemy. "Pull him outta there and stand your ground! Be a man! Who the man?"

"No," complained The Commander, "I don't wanna-"

"Who the man?"

"I'm the man." said The Commander.

"Who the man?"

"I'm the man."

"Who the _**man**_?"

"I'm the man!"

"Are you the man, Commander? Are you the man?"

"Fuck yeah!" And he punched Enemy square in the face. The Commander got back to his feet, feeling much better about the situation.

"Thanks a lot, Corporal." he thanked. "I suppose I should help treat your wound, it's been in free flow for quite a while."

"I knew that," slurred Enemy, "I was just wondering if you knew why the Easter Bunny was eating Budda in the corner over there." he nodded to Snot's corner but The Commander saw no one.

"Right." he said simply. "Where were you shot again?"

"Just below the waist." informed Enemy. "Hey, where are you going?"

The Commander had just started leaving the cave. He tossed the medical kit in front of Enemy. "I'm out." he said simply. "I'll follow any man into combat, but this is one mission I will _**not**_ partake."

"But I don't know how to apply the medication!" complained Enemy. "What do I do?"

"I don't know!" shouted The Commander from outside. "Try walking over it!" and he left.

Enemy thought about this for a moment. He then decided to stand and walk over the medical kit. It worked.


	4. You Are Parked In A Loading Area

Red vs. Blue...vs. Green

Story One: I'm Living in a Cave

Chapter Four: You Are Parked In A Loading Area

* * *

><p>Hope at last! It was the best news of the entire week! No one had eaten any of the rations found in the Red and Blue bases and patience was wearing thin. Everyone had wanted to eat the other. For a while, Enemy had been up for 'first to be eaten' but had unfortunately pulled through after being shot by Snot. No one wanted to eat Snot, not even Snot. They all feared that with him inside them, the proverbial shit would hit the proverbial fan while being floated up the proverbial creek without the proverbial paddle...and worse. Their next option was to order Parts to let them eat him for a while. He <em><strong>would<strong>_ let them do it, seriously. Not only because he was an idiot, but because he wanted to impress. Or at least, he did want to impress until he swanned off with a tank named Sheila. Phill was the weakest after that, easy to hold down. Unfortunately he was too witty if a little thick, but that would make more to go around. You would think The Commander would be on the 'last to be eaten' section, but that title went to Name; mainly because he could defend himself...really well. Since arriving at Blood Gulch he had smacked Enemy over the head several times, almost shot Phill to pieces and had taken the pride of every squad member several times over. But, at last, the debate was over and this is how:

The Commander stood there, licking his dry lips and staring wide eyed at the sight before him. He couldn't believe they didn't notice this before. "I can't believe you didn't notice this before!" he complained to Phill, Name and Snot who were standing nearby.

"We only noticed them while Name and I were trying to find other hiding spots. The two rocks were too easy." explained Phill. "And they were just right there, in plain sight."

"I found it cheerful." commented Snot.

"How did I know you'd say that you freak of human existence?" said Phill.

"Screw what Snotty said!" exclaimed The Commander. He sucked up the saliva dribbling from his mouth. "We need to get them out now! How long have they been down there?"

"It says that they were buried about a week and a bit ago."

"So, still fresh, may need to cut off the rotten parts, but apart from that I think we scored big!" cheered The Commander. He was so happy that the boys had found new graves. "Sorry 'Church' and 'Tex'," he said unconvincingly, "you may have been third rate soldiers to get killed, but you'll be a first rate second course. Dig 'em up."

"Right sir," began Phill until a thought occurred; "but we don't have anything to dig them out with."

"No shovel or nothing?"

"If we did," droned Snot, "I would have made a grave of my own."

"Don't you dare talk that way son!" diverted The Commander. "You will do your duty and be eaten before burial! I mean, look at you! Stop hogging up all that good meat on ya and let someone else get at if for a change!"

Name nodded. This act seemed to freak out everyone, including The Commander. They didn't think he was into this sort of thing. They all tried to bury the memory of that nod deep in the darkest recesses of their minds where it would fester and slowly drive them insane, or in the case of Snot, insane-er.

"If you can't dig 'em out," began The Commander, handing several grenades to Phill and Snot, "blast 'em out."

* * *

><p>Two hours and two loud bangs later, the squad was sitting comfortably around a nice fire, the two soldiers cooking on a spit. Wherever the owners were, it was a better place...or at least, a different place. It was far from better, and definitely not as warm. The Commander, Phill, Name, Snot, Parts and Sheila ate their 'meat' and then those there who were organic pinched what Sheila had left over, which was about exactly as much as she had been given. "It's good to have the whole family for dinner." she said cheerfully, trying to think of a way to break the extra special news she had bottled up in her circuits. "Everyone enjoying your human?"<p>

"A little mechanical for my taste," munched The Commander, "but a fine job." He turned on his radio. "How are you going, Enemy? Meat coming good?"

Phill looked through the sniper scope up at the cave in the hillside. Sitting alone in front of a small fire of his own was Enemy, roasting a hand on the end of a stick. He gave Phill a thumbs up with all three thumbs and returned to his cooking.

"Where'd you get the dry wood?" The Commander asked Phill.

Phill put down the sniper rifle. "It's not wood." he said. "It's their armour."

"Huh." considered The Commander. "I had no idea our armour burnt this well."

"Neither did I."

"Hmm. That's the army for ya."

"I think that this scene here," began Snot, somehow incorporating a philosophical tone into his usual monotonous bore, "reflects the perfect cross between how far we've come as a species and yet how little we've actually grown."

"What do you mean?" asked Parts. "We're eating. People have been doing that for centuries."

"We're eating in the presence of machine, our own creation."

"That's debatable." scoffed Sheila. "How do we know that humans weren't invented by some almighty computer, manufactured them, plopped them onto Earth and then diminished into non-existence?"

"Sheila makes a good point." agreed Phill. "I think even Name might have something to say on the matter." Everyone was confused.

"Why?" asked The Commander.

"Well...because he's a robot."

"Fuck off!" insulted The Commander, rocking backwards. "He's no robot."

"What?"

"He's a fully fleshed human with more than enough right to live in the Universe as you do."

"But," searched Phill, trying to find an answer, "but he never talks. He's only said a few words."

"No one's perfect. You of all people should understand that!" spat The Commander. Phill turned to everyone else. "Did you know he wasn't a robot?"

"Yeah." said Parts simply.

"I did." droned Snot.

"It's implied with me." confirmed Sheila.

"_Fucking idiot!"_ shouted Enemy through the coms.

Name shook his head disappointingly at Phill. He expected better.

"Anyway," diverted The Commander, "I believe Snot was about to say something profound for the first time."

"Well I was just saying," continued Snot, "that we may be eating around a fire with machine, civilised and all, but look at what we're eating. Human; our own kind. Haven't we moved beyond that?"

"What religion were you brought up on?" enquired The Commander.

"And then there's this war. All the fighting that has raged on for years across the vastness of space. You'd think we'd have sorted it out proactively rather than destructively. We have no allies, so many enemies and the world in which we live in is doomed to be destroyed. Our homes, our families and our lives, all gone." concluded Snot, leaving the group in a thoughtful silence.

"You gotta work on those ghost stories, Snotty." commented The Commander and he ripped a huge chunk of leg off the artificial limb. He spat it out in disgust. "What the hell is this?"

"I'd venture a guess," began Sheila, analysing the food, "that these people were not in fact people, but machines."

"Huh, I was wondering why mine had so many nuts and bolts in it." realised Parts.

"Well screw that!" said The Commander, chucking away his leg. "I'm not eating this crap. No offence Sheila."

Her lack of response clearly outlined how much she didn't care.

"I want you to take all of this and put it all back in the grave." ordered The Commander.

"Uh, there's something you might wanna know about that." said Phill. "When we blew the graves open, we also found a cave system underneath the valley."

"So?"

Phill had to think about the significance of this before he discovered that there was none at this present time. "Nothing."

* * *

><p>Twelve more hours had passed through, along with their last meal. The Commander, Phill, Snot and Name were about to head out on a hunt when Parts and Sheila confronted them.<p>

"We've got some important news." said Parts nervously.

'_Good,' _thought The Commander,_ 'this must be the part where they tell us they're breaking up.'_

"Happy important news." added Sheila.

'_Aww, that's sweet. They knew I'd be happy to hear it.'_

"Wait, I don't want you to say anything until we're in complete privacy. Phill!" called The Commander. Phill stepped forward.

"Yes sir?"

"Stay within earshot." ordered The Commander.

"Right here?" asked Phill.

"No, not there! That's too far away, closer! You two!" he pointed at Name and Snot. "Move up, you couldn't hear one of my signature A-Bomb farts from back there!"

Name and Snot moved forward.

"Now," began Parts, "I know how-"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait!" interrupted The Commander. He tapped his helmet. "Enemy, are you hearing this?"

"_Loud and clear sir."_ crackled Enemy's voice over the radio.

"Good, now we're ready. What was it?"

"Well," continued Parts warily, "we both know how you've all reacted negatively about Sheila and my getting together."

'_Blah, blah! Get to the bit where you couldn't satisfy her.'_

"And we listened and heard. We understand where you're coming from and we've thought it over."

'_In other words, she talked too much and he came too early.'_

"So we made a tough decision, but we're gonna stick with it." concluded Parts.

'_Here it comes...!'_

Parts stepped back, patting Sheila's metal body. "We're getting married!" she announced excitedly. "Isn't it great?"

It's hard to describe the sounds that came from The Commander's mouth. While everyone was stone silent in thought, he was coughing, spluttering, hiccupping, choking and spitting all at once. Even his stomach decided to add a little bile to the party going on in his mouth. Coincidentally, his mind had trouble thinking anything at all. In the end, all it could come up with was a simple; _'Fuck.'_

"Congratulations Parts and Shei-" began Phill, but was winded by The Commander's rifle.

"Yes," he said over Phill's own splutters of surprise, "great news, brilliant news!" he smiled widely and realised a few moments later that no one could see it. "We were just heading out to shoot us a couple of bastards-I mean birds!" he corrected himself. Snot and Name thought this odd of The Commander, he seemed a very together guy...emotionally at least...well, physically all the limbs were there. He continued; "I'm just wondering if you would like to join us for a whip-while! Consider it an engagement present." he concluded, smiling inanely.

"Uhh," began a nervous Parts, "we were actually gonna start planning right away, so we'll have to take a raincheck."

"I'm sorry to have to steal him away so often." apologised Sheila.

"Not to worry, bitch. Babe! Don't worry about it. We'll be fine on our own." assured The Commander. "Head out." he said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, by the way!" called out Sheila as they slowly began walking away. "We'd like you to marry us, Commander!" The subject of the statement halted him in his tracks. He quickly turned and waved.

"Sure thing, course I'll blow it. Bless it!" And Parts and Sheila were gone, heading off to a private area.

"_You still want me to listen in for the good news, or was that it?" _asked Enemy sarcastically.

"Shut up!" complained The Commander, wanting to take a swing at Enemy. Unfortunately, he wasn't there so he hit Phill with his gun another time. He stalked off to the cliff top, Name and Snot close behind.

Phill slowly stood, breathing shallow. Why he had been hit so many times, he had no idea, but at least it couldn't get any worse...as long as The Commander was over punishing him.

"Phill, you climb up to the bird nests and point them out so I can take a shot!" called back The Commander. It seemed he wasn't done.

Twenty minutes later, Name was comfortably lying down on the jagged rock of the cliff path, looking through the scope of his sniper rifle towards the rise near the corner of the valley. He could see Phill gratuitously climbing up to the top where nestled safely a small flock of birds. With great difficulty, he reached the level of ground directly underneath the lip and waved in Name's direction. If it'd been up to Name, he'd have just shot Phill and they could eat him. No one would complain and there'd be a few hundred less moans and complaints to listen to. To be brutally honest, Phill was nothing more than a winey, toting, limey, smarmy-arse, shit-faced, utter, utter bastard son of a bitch who had a poorly disguised polar bear's chance in a zebra's only bar to not get killed by one of his own team than the enemy. But this was just Name's opinion, he didn't know Phill personally but suspected he wasn't much different.

"Got it set up?" grunted The Commander.

Name nodded.

"Good, pass it over."

Name handed the rifle to him. Snot was none too pleased as usual.

"Why don't I get to take a shot?" he asked.

"Because the last time you got hold of one of these, you nearly killed a little Corporal...and Enemy as well." explained The Commander.

"Was that really such a bad thing?"  
>"Not really, no. As far as I'm concerned, the fewer kids to come outta that twat who end up joining the army, the better chance we'll have in winning this God awful war."<p>

"Is this what you think of everyone?"

"No." said The Commander. He considered for a moment before adding; "Apart from Enemy of course. And you, I can't say I don't think that way about you. What with your thick personality and your pussy manner, your armour colour that makes a statement on how new recruits are picked. Of course I think that way about you." As you can guess, this didn't really sink down well with Snot. Nothing really did anyway. Luckily, The Commander's continuation along this thread of conversation greatly distracted him from his sorrow with a whole new wave of it. "I think I'd mind if Parts squeezed out a few. I'd be even more worried if his wife did! A whole family of arse kissers and they'll have to get fed from there too. Come to think of it, the only person under my command I wouldn't mind having children is you, Name."

Name stood to attention. He wasn't honoured, but just liked his higher status enough to show it off to Snot.

"A good, quiet type like yourself, strong, independent, not at all a pratt like those around you. The army needs more quiet people who let everyone else do the talking while they don't say a thing no matter how heavy the battle or fierce the encounter. You know who I mean?" He waited for a reply. "Good." he continued anyway. He'd scanned around through the scope and had found Phill close to the nest. The Commander's eyes flared with frustration, he was pissed off like he'd never been before.

"And as for Phill," he began, squeezing the trigger more tightly, "I think that if anyone had the chance to stop his family line here and now, they'd be doing the Universe a big favour." He took a shot, but hit just under the lip of the cliff. Phill cut in on the radio.

"_That was a little low, sir. Try just a tad higher."_

The Commander huffed. "Just having to know that he is present in the same parsec in space is frustrating!" He took another shot, even lower.

"_You're still heading down."_

"I mean, his existence itself is a crime against humanity!" He shot once more, just missing Phill's head.

"_What the fuck are you playing at up there?"_

"And he has-" He shot, narrowly avoiding Phill who jumped backwards.

"No respect-" He shot again, skimming past Phill's legs. Phill was beginning to get the message.

"For his elders!" The Commander fired again, this time actually trying to hit Phill somewhere vital but missing. Phill had decided to make a runner, or at least a climber, and was jumping down the rise. The Commander began unloading clip after clip at the weaving Lieutenant as he charged across the field. "Stand still you mother fucker!" cried The Commander. "I'm your commanding officer! Obey me!"

After coaxing Phill out from behind a rock and pretending to take down his complaints record to send to Command, he agreed to meet with The Commander to apologise. This is how The Commander apologises; "If you _**ever**_ annoy me in _**any**_ way," he began, "you'll have something in common with a donut factory."

"How's that, sir?" enquired Phill.

"You'll be full of holes." concluded The Commander and stalked off to go give a piece of his mind to Parts and Sheila.

He hadn't thought this through, but that's how some of the greatest events in the history of mankind came about; did Captain Cook ever think 'I'm getting a little bored, I think I might discover a country with a large rock smack bang in the middle of it'? Did Abraham Lincoln take a moment to consider the possibility that someone might hate him so much that he wouldn't allow him to make it into the play's third act for the secret to be revealed? Maybe Captain Keys should have thought about playing it safe before unleashing The Flood onto the Galaxy, but that didn't stop him. And with these thoughts giving him the reason he needed to do what he was about to do, The Commander marched right up to the large tank who had stolen something dear to him; his own personal arse kisser. You don't get one those every day. He knocked the bulk roughly with his foot to get her attention before announcing; "I challenge you to a duel!" Everyone, especially Sheila, thought that this was suicide.

"That's suicide." said Sheila, agreeing with the feelings and the general consensus of the rest of the group, Enemy and you, the reader. "And what have I done to deserve this?"

"You stole my Private Parts!" He hesitated. The sound of Enemy slowly clapping demeaning-ly was broadcasted over the com. "I understand how that must've sounded." cleared up The Commander. "But I stand by those words. Parts is a hell of a soldier and he deserves to stay in deadly and probably terminal combat rather than huddle in the safe arms of you."

Sheila blew raspberries. "You wouldn't know what terminal combat is you wuss." insulted Sheila, preparing all of her weaponry. "I am a fucking tank, brought in from the front line. I've seen shit that makes your shit look like crap. Take it from me, little man," she said, aiming her enormous cannon intimidating-ly squarely between The Commander's eyes, "from my point of view, _**you're**_ the other woman compared to me."

The Commander gulped. He soon regretted this as that one drop of saliva had inadvertently filled up his bladder and he now desperately had to go to the bathroom. With one last blast of confidence, and a tightening of his legs over his groin, he said; "I'll see you at midday for the duel." and walked away, his dignity intact, his head held high and his manhood a little to the left.

"It's always midday." commented Sheila. That did it; he'd wet his pants. The coward continued on to get ready in the Red base, Parts wanted to get a word in with his girlfriend.

"What are you doing?" he asked quizzically.

"Hey, he started it!" she complained. "Why should I refused a dying man's wishes?"

"He's not dying."

"He will be at midday." Sheila turned away, frustrated with her mechanic. "Besides, I thought you loved me now."

"I do. I just don't think that killing my commanding officer is a good way to prove this."

"Isn't it?" she snapped angrily. "Would you rather I killed Phill?"

"Yes!"

"I cannot believe you! Why can't you be happy with who I am?"

"I-" began Parts, but realised he couldn't continue. "I am happy with you. I love you for who you are."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Pinkie promise?"

"You don't have a pinkie."

"I can dream, can't I?" she yelled at Parts.

"Sure you can." said Parts, trying to calm her down. Unlike any other girlfriend, she could crush him underfoot. "Can you just promise me you'll go easy on him?"

Sheila stared at him incredulously. Yes, emotion was showing even though she didn't have a face. "I was built to factory settings and absolute specifications. You could ask me to go easy, medium or hard on him, it'd still be the exact same way."

"Right." thought Parts, considering what she had just said with great difficulty. "What about pretending to have a limp?"

"Hey, shut up and clean out my pipes."

* * *

><p>"Fuck this!" paced The Commander, backwards and forwards. He had no other way to deal with his nervousness about being blown to pieces by a ten tonne tank over a wanker who actually believes he can consummate with the thing. Sure, that may be every man's wet dream at times, but it certainly cannot be achieved. That's what wet dream are! Ranting was the only answer and the two candidates The Commander wanted had been killed in action years ago, so he had to make do with Snot and Name instead. At least they were good at being quiet, as long as he felt they were listening it didn't matter. "I mean, I <em><strong>really<strong>_ didn't think she'd go for it! My macho facade should have made her fuel all over herself! These pecks didn't just grow overnight! They were grown through years of hard work trying to find out where the hell I'd packed away the 'Eight Minute Abbs' video! I mean, I had to smoke dirt to make my voice this gravelly for it to be intimidating! That ain't no mean feat, I'll tell you! And how the hell did she do it anyway? She couldn't have used any old pickup line! I reckon it was drugs or some sort of airborne hallucinogen or another complicated term of some sort! What the fuck does it matter now? As soon as I walk out there, I'm dead! I'm probably dead now and I just don't know it! Shove it you ugly living bastards! I am sick of being put in the line of fire for you all the time! I-" It was at this point that Snot's ability to withstand the incredibly moronic presence of his commanding officer gave in and he was forced to make a tactical retreat to the nearby cave to sit in the presence of another moronic presence called Enemy. For those of you who have missed the original antics of this beloved character, you will not be disappointed by his opening line of; "I prayed up to God to send one of his own to take me away. It seems that my message went in the wrong direction." Enemy was sitting down against the wall, almost pathetically but still very determined to keep anyone at least six feet away. "I see the postal service is still doing its usual bang-up job. So tell me, of all of Satan's awful punishments, of Beelzebub's most trusted and horrible servants, did he decide to send the absolute worst of them in the form of you?"

"I wanted to see how you were doing." said Snot truthfully.

Enemy considered this statement and concluded that it was; "Bullshit."

"No," insisted Snot, "I am very concerned about you." Enemy was flattered, if not weary by this strange happenstance. Snot was not one to care for others even if he didn't care for himself.

"Oh," he began, trying to search for other words, "thank...you?" He hoped this was the proper response.

"Thanks." Enemy sighed in relief.

"Well, there's not much to say really. I've been living in this cave, eating off scraps, drinking the water off the walls, using your corner as the bathroom."

"Ah." said a disappointed Snot. "Can I still have it back?"

"Sure, but I won't warn you when to get out of the way."

"Deal." There was an awkward silence. Neither of them knew how to continue on with their conversation. Snot suddenly decided to unload everything that had been going on; "The Commander's gonna get killed today."

"I know, I heard."

"You gonna watch?"

"Mmmm...nnn...nnn...nah." concluded Enemy and tried to get some sleep.

Snot wouldn't have any of this; "Come on! You can't go on living in here."

"Watch me. Except when I'm going to the bathroom, of course."

"You'll rot away in the dark."

"I see the sun hasn't done anything to your positive nature."

"Are you really going to pass up the one opportunity to see The Commander blown up by a tank for a snooze in a cave?"

"You better believe it."

"You won't even get a chance to say some witty comment in his final seconds of falling through the air."

"Oh well, I'm sure Name will have a cracker of a joke. Now, leave me alone." Enemy turned over into a tighter ball. Snot sighed, this would be harder than he thought. He'd known Enemy was an arsehole, but he didn't know he was thick as well.

"Well," he said slowly, "I've decided to move back in." he said. Enemy opened his eyes.

"What?" he asked.

"I've decided to move back into my old corner."

Enemy rolled over to face Snot, a look of disgust and horror written over his face. "You can't! It's full of shit! It was before and it is now, even more so!"

"Just makes it warmer for winter." brushed off Snot. "It'll just be you and me...good buddies...talking it out over the years...eternal loneliness with only each other for comfort. Doesn't that sound appealing?" Snot never received an answer. Enemy had left his cave for good, vowing to never return as long as there was an atom left in the Universe. Snot smiled, he had succeeded. Just for this, he treated himself by lying back into his warm corner for a small snooze. The noise it made was off-putting, so he decided to leave too.

* * *

><p>"Why did you change your armour to brown?" enquired Phill who was standing on the hill outside with Enemy. Snot had just exited the cave and was planning on remaining unnoticed on the sidelines. His plan hadn't gone well, so he decided to leave before the smell became pungent enough to- "Yeuch!" complained Phill who turned away. "What smells like shit?" Snot left. Enemy leant in closer to Phill.<p>

"Where's The Commander?" he asked.

"Still getting set up in the Red base with Name."

"Huh. And...where's Sheila?" Phill pointed over to the Blue base.

"Right there." He said, indicating the tank and the small figure in front of it who was obviously Parts. He was placing a hollow cylinder over Sheila's cannon ceremoniously.

"There!" he chirped. "Your engagement ring is on."

"Ah!" admired Sheila, holding her cannon up to where her eyes should be. "It fits!" Parts wiped his forehead as though it was difficult choosing the right size ring. Enemy couldn't realise how ridiculous everything had become.

"I can't believe how ridiculous everything's become!" he exclaimed to a calm Phill who understood everything unusually well. "First, we eat one of our own men who was killed by our commanding officer, then no one is where they should be, Parts falls in love with a tank called Sheila and now The Commander is about to have a _**duel**_ with the thing? Now you tell me, am I missing anything? Could there possibly be any more impossible things that could happen?"

Phill turned to Enemy, hoping that it would help him think of an answer. It didn't work. He turned to Parts and Sheila who were slowly making their way across the field. Nothing. He turned to the Blue base where The Commander had finally emerged with Name close behind. Nothing. Finally, he looked up into the sky where the birds flew and the clouds passed overhead. He turned back to Enemy; "Yep."

He was shaking, he was shivering, he was terrified. The Commander had never felt this scared in his life, probably because he'd never had a duel with a talking tank before. Fortunately for him, there was a proverbial ace up his proverbial sleeve and his proverbial hand might just be good enough for him to win this proverbial game...proverbially speaking. "Son," he said to Name, "I know you're worried about me getting killed," but as we all know, this wasn't the case, "but I wanted to let you know I've got a secret weapon with me."

"_Uh, you left your radio on, sir."_ came Snot's voice from over the radio.

"_I didn't know you had a strategy."_ commented Enemy.

"_Tell us!"_ said Phill.

"_I promise I won't tell Sheila."_ said Parts.

"_Yeah, I promise he won't tell me!" _pleaded Sheila.

The Commander shut off his radio. "Oh yes." he said to himself. "I've got a plan." He and Name continued to the middle of the field where Sheila and Parts were in wait. He wasn't shivering anymore, he wasn't shaking anymore, he didn't need to go to the bathroom anymore. He wasn't scared. He was bloody terrified. Enemy and Phill watched from a safe distance, glad that they weren't The Commander more so than ever before.

"Hey," said Phill, "I bet you Sheila will win."

"Nah, I'd put my money on The Commander." replied Enemy. "Whatever hare-brained plan he's got, it'll definitely be crazy enough to get him through it alive. Or mostly alive." Phill considered this.

"How much money?" he asked.

"How much you got?"

"Let's shake on it." confirmed Phill. They looked at each other's hands where they held their assault rifles. They then looked at each other for a moment. "On second thought," began Phill, "I don't wanna let go of my gun."

"Yeah, me neither." said Enemy and they turned back to the duel. "I mean it'd be very inconvenient. What with the putting down of the gun and the picking up of the gun.

"It's better we just, you know, leave it in our arms." agreed Phill. "Someone might decide to attack us."

"Yeah. It only takes a split second of distraction to get you killed. And a handshake would...would definitely do it."

"Oh, absolutely, totally one hundred percent agree. Mmm hmm."

The Commander stood on one hill, Sheila on the other. Name was ready to count down to the fire command. "Whenever you're ready, Name." said The Commander. Name nodded down to the fire command, but nothing happened. He tried again, nothing. Unfortunately, Name's nods weren't seen by the duellers as their backs were turned to him. "What in the Hurt Locker are you waiting for?" Name shrugged at him. "Snot, get your arse down here, front and centre."

"_Aww."_ complained Snot from afar and ventured down to where Name was standing. He counted down with Name's nods. "One..."

The Commander tensed.

"Two..."

Sheila prepped her cannon.

"Three!"

The Commander turned, mightily whipping out his rocket launcher from wherever he kept it. This was his secret weapon.

"That is his secret weapon?" exclaimed Enemy incredulously. "We already knew about it!"

The Commander aimed it strategically at Sheila's weak spot in the cockpit. "Hey Sheila!" he called. "Get ready to suck some-" **BANG! **"Argh!"

For those of you who might've guessed, The Commander was shot and is at present flying through the air. "What grace." commented Enemy as both he, Phill and everyone else watched this poor man fall without style.

"I want you all to know!" yelled The Commander as he fell. "I hate Phill the most!"

Phill didn't know exactly how to take this news, but knew exactly how to react. "Mother fucker." he said simply, aiming his assault rifle at his commanding officer and taking a few pot shots at him.

They all gathered around The Commander's body, lying awfully still where it had landed. Parts had been the first one there. Ever since seeing his higher rank being blasted by his fiancé of a tank, he had had an epiphany about life. As he kneeled there applying mouth to mouth, he realised just what his priorities were.

"Parts..." croaked The Commander weakly.

"Yes sir?" asked a hectic Parts.

"Stop blowing into my arse."

"Whoops, sorry sir." apologised Parts.

"Jeez, you must've been hit bad if your arse looks anything like your face!" joked Enemy.

"Hey Enemy, why don't you cut your dick off and shove it in your mouth because that's the closest you'll get to a commitment."

"Not your best comeback., sir. It's not the first time you've died."

"Hardy fucking har!" spat The Commander. "Where's that tank? I guess I should congratulate her victory over this poor husk before I pass on to the next life and haunt the shit out of her."

"I...uh...I shut her down." said Parts.

"What? That was our only tank."

"Don't worry, she'll be operational again." assured Parts. "Just a long time in the future when everything's the same, yet different, when everything's smoother and more detailed and when the scenery isn't so pixelated."

"Why did you do it?"

"It didn't feel right." explained Parts. "There was just no chemistry between us, like it was all physical. Also...it was...you know..."

"Fucked up?" suggested Phill.

"Yeah." agreed Parts "I erased her memory banks so she won't remember us. She won't remember me. It'll be like we never existed."

"So, she's gone for now?"

"Yep."

"Brilliant!" and The Commander sprang to his feet. "Well, that's one less bad guy to worry about!" he said cheerfully.

"Wait, you're not hurt?" asked Enemy.

"Nope."

"But Sheila hit you dead on!"

"I know. Guess I'm just lucky."  
>"Fuck lucky!" exclaimed Enemy. "That's close to freaking touched by God!"<p>

"I'm sad about losing our tank." continued The Commander, ignoring Enemy as usual. "This means we'll need to take shelter back in the cave until we're absolutely sure that the Reds and Blues are not coming back. Move out!"

"You mean 'in', sir." corrected Parts.

"Damn it son, I forgot how much you annoyed me." said The Commander and they all began walking back to their cave.

"You know what, at least we still got the Puma."

"Fuck you!" screamed out Enemy. "Fuck you all!"

* * *

><p>Vic had been sitting at his monitor for a few weeks now without any incoming transmissions from Blood Gulch Outpost One. He was getting worried; if they didn't buy something soon, he'd have to move on to another outpost. Considering this, he didn't really care any longer and just decided to stay where he was. Suddenly, white noise emerged from the speakers. A live transmission was being intercepted. "Blood Gulch Outpost One, is that you?" he asked. "About fucking time." he complained.<p>

"_Hello Green Command."_ came the fuzzy, gruff voice of a Sergeant. _"This is Green squad, reporting in. Do you read me?"_

"Green Command?" considered Vic, his hand hovering over the 'transmit' button. "I don't know nothing about no Green Command."

"_Come in!" _came the voice again. _"We have-"_Vic moved his hand over the 'cut transmission' button and pressed it.

"Fucking telemarketers!"


End file.
